poetry critical

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the \ORIGINAL/ rebel

She's a real firecracker.
This isn't a lie;
a swallow tattoo
on the inside of her thigh.
Her skirt's so short
that it ends above her knee.
Slouching in her chair
and spilling all her tea.
Out climbing trees
on Sunday with the boys,
fishing rod, shotgun
and all her other toys.
Her face is caked in mud
and her fingers stained with ink.
Her hair is hacked short
and her skin flushed pink.
She is always smiling widely
but the guests she'd never greet.
She lets herself tan golden brown
in unseemly heat.
But in her old age
she's like a snooty regal cat.
I can't believe Great-Grandmother
was ever at all like that!

4 Jun 10

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for friends n family this fine how it is. but it's a more accomplished poem without the final strophe. you can work greatgranny into the title. heat would be a nice word to end on.
 — NicMichaels

 — psychofemale

A missing classic
 — rivergood